I tend to foster drama via bleakness. If I want the reader to feel sympathy for a character, I cleave the character in half, on his birthday. And then it starts raining. And he’s made of sugar.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order.

I remember when the candle shop burned down. Everyone stood around singing ’Happy Birthday.’

For my birthday I got a humidifier and a de-humidifier... I put them in the same room and let them fight it out.